


I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

by Neyiea



Series: Burn everything you love/Then burn the ashes [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dark-ish Bruce Wayne, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Jeremiah has hearts in his eyes, schemes on his mind, and everything he wants at his fingertips.Bruce doesn't break, but he does start to bend.





	I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty self-indulgent, not going to lie. There were a couple of parts in You were meant to be mine that made me contemplate upping the rating, though ultimately I decided against it because then Jeremiah would be suuuper-sleazy as opposed to, you know, his usual levels of manipulative and possessive. Since he and Bruce reached a sort of understanding at the end of that story I figured; WELL, I may as well write SOMETHING MORE to earn an M rating. 
> 
> I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel  
> I want to drive you through the night, down the hills  
> I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear  
> I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear
> 
> Nightcall by Kavinsky

Jeremiah doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sight of Bruce before him, encircled by a halo of fire. It was a display of what Bruce had been capable of for so long, without him realizing that he was, and it was also like a glimpse into the future.

He was beautiful, and powerful, and Jeremiah’s.

Jeremiah wants to construct a stained-glass window of the scene to commemorate it by.

Ever since Bruce stumbled into his plans ahead of schedule Jeremiah’s been caught up in him. The time they’d spent apart was a necessary evil, but oh, how grand it had been to watch his emotions get the better of him during that first, unexpected night together. How wonderful it had been to have Bruce spill such lovely secrets about how he’d been wanting Jeremiah to show himself when he’d thought he had the upper hand. 

How achingly bewitching to hear, from Bruce’s own lips, that even when Jeremiah had been masquerading as his old, lesser self that Bruce had almost loved him. 

The tunnel had worked even better than expected, and the little voice inside of him that is impossible to ignore whispers such exquisite ideas to him. He’s going to sink inside of Bruce and fill his heart. He’s not going to leave room for anyone else.

No one else deserves to be there.

Now that Jeremiah is no longer hiding in plain sight, and Bruce is free to become the best version of himself, there’s nothing to stop Bruce’s feelings from mirroring Jeremiah’s own.

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, the most divine name, sweet on the tongue, like honey in his mouth each time he’s free to say it. He wants to wake Bruce up to calls of it, and whisper it in his ear as he shows him the amazing things he has in store, and yell it from the rooftops so that all who had once taken advantage of Bruce’s too-big heart would know that he’d finally taken his place at Jeremiah’s side, where he belonged. Where he could reach his full potential. Where he could be the other half of something legendary. It had occurred to him that Bruce’s actions and demands, and his offer of a long-desired partnership, may very well have been an attempt to manipulate him into leaving Gotham alone forever. But, well…

What was a little manipulation between soulmates?

Jeremiah feels his lips pull into a wide smile.

Each morning before Bruce awoke Jeremiah would listen as Ecco read him transcripts of new conversations, ones that, had Bruce still been close enough to James Gordon to know of their existence, would have kept him hopeful, and weak, and away from Jeremiah. Gotham was on the brink of reunification, or at least it had been. Jeremiah is fairly certain that the antics of tonight will have pushed it back at least a few more weeks even though his fireworks didn’t go off.

But it had been easy to focus Bruce’s attentions on past conversations while keeping him in the dark about new ones: the months of pleading that hadn’t been answered, and the cruel ruse of Secretary Walker whose offers of help were only a way to camouflage a sinister purpose. Jeremiah may have cut Gotham off from the outside world, and was perhaps responsible for the deaths of a handful of crazed fools, but he hadn’t blown up Haven.

And oh, Bruce’s forever bleeding heart must have been so hurt after the Haven massacre.

The funny, and extraordinarily tragic, thing about Bruce was that he tended to care more about others than himself. It had worked in Jeremiah’s favour more than once. It would probably work in his favour again until Bruce finally started putting himself first and stopped shouldering the burdens of the undeserving. 

It was so easy to stir up the anger inside of him and point it at a target that deserved his ire far more than Jeremiah, who only did what he did out of the untameable love in his heart and the desire for Bruce to become all that he was meant to be.

Secretary Walker’s motivations, though currently unknown, could not possibly be even a tenth as selfless as Jeremiah’s.

Wherever Ecco may have unloaded the fireworks, or wherever Jim Gordon may have tried to gather them, the ensuing contamination of Gotham will keep reunification at bay for a little longer. Long enough that Bruce will fully lose the faith that he so wrongfully placed in the hands of people who would never care for him as Jeremiah cares for him. 

They’re cut off from the heart of Gotham, for now, but they won’t be away for long. It would be cruel to keep Bruce away from the city that he so loves, and Jeremiah isn’t keen on staying away either, not when there’s still so much work to be done. So much improvement that’s needed. He’ll find a way back before Gotham is legally allowed to open its borders again. Getting in is bound to be easier than getting out, with far less obstacles in place. Also, he doesn’t imagine that outsmarting the military who had given Secretary Walker so much power without question will be terribly difficult. 

The military who had also, according to what Ecco had told him not even a full day ago, lost track of Secretary Walker almost immediately after her reprehensible actions went public. 

Where else could she have gone, where else could she possibly be, but the place where all foul things are drawn to? Jeremiah may not have the facts to back it up yet, but he knows that somewhere in those dark streets the person who was the most responsible for the mainland’s continued desire to stay severed from Gotham was lurking. He’ll bide his time until Ecco can confirm it with certainty, not only because he’s sure that Bruce will want facts before throwing himself into action, but also because, well…

Him and Bruce, alone together, briefly cut off from the heart of Gotham and all that it represents…

It really does feel quite honeymoon-ish. 

And then, once everything is verified, Bruce will be so pleased when he realizes that although his actions had closed one path into Gotham Jeremiah could construct a new one. A better one, even. 

Bruce had done so well, though, setting off the bombs of his own volition. Destroying a link to a past where Jeremiah had yet to exist. Cutting himself off from the people whose influence he needed to be free from. A little time away from those who continue dragging him down is just what he needs. He’s going to be so very strong. Jeremiah can taste it just like he can still taste the smoke in the air. He’s only just begun changing, he still has farther to go.

And Jeremiah is going to be with him every step of the way, no matter how long it takes.

Wayne Manor is a small flicker on the horizon behind them. Before them lies a dazzling array of possibilities.

The old, unremarkable car that he’d had Mister Pennyworth drive into the next city for supplies in had thankfully been parked out of the range of the blast, and driving along a moonlit road with Bruce curled up in the passenger seat beside him is…

Romantic. Idyllic, even. Sometimes the simplest things in life prove themselves to be the sweetest. 

He has a new scheme to focus on, now, a new ending that needs to be reached. Jeremiah has had months to think about the future, and back up plans, and how he might carry out new projects when it was unlikely that he’d be receiving another grant from a reputable company any time soon. He’ll use all his months of planning to work with Bruce, just as they are meant to, to do what needs to be done for him to become all that he can be. There are people who Bruce blindly trusted, people whose actions had only caused willful hurt, and they’ll be dealt with before long. Then they can enjoy being home.

Gotham is home. Bruce is home, too. Jeremiah will break Gotham down and build it up better while crawling further into Bruce, until there’s no way that their connection can sever.

He almost salivates at the idea of it.

Up ahead in a deep lot away from the road is a large shadowy house with overgrown hedges lining the driveway. Another abandoned Gotham Manor whose owners had probably evacuated to a secondary-home the minute it appeared as if trouble was being stirred up.

A safe spot for them to spend the night. A safe spot for Jeremiah to do all that he has been aching to do ever since Bruce—clever, tricky, indomitable Bruce, his other half in all things—pushed the triggered detonator into his hands. Ever since that first night, when Bruce had his hands wrapped around Jeremiah’s throat and was raging so beautifully. 

Their kisses and touches and bites have been wonderful, and Jeremiah will never put a stop to them, but he yearns for more, more, more.

Everything, the voice whispers.

Yes, everything.

He comes to a stop and before Bruce can move out of his passenger seat Jeremiah grabs onto his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

He’s a romantic at heart, really. But then, isn’t everyone when they’re faced with the one who completes them in every way? 

Bruce gazes at him and there’s no sign of warring in his eyes, no sign of him fighting an urge to pull away. Jeremiah had promised him before that he would go slowly, and he will, he will, he’ll go as slowly as he can so that he can savor every moment and commit it all to memory. Bruce had said he wasn’t ready for everything, and that certainly had not been a lie. In retrospect it’s obvious that his kissing and stripping Jeremiah of his jacket had been a ploy, but that doesn’t mean that Jeremiah isn’t keenly aware of Bruce’s youth and inexperience. 

It doesn’t mean that he’s going to ignore the point that they’d left off at, either. 

There are so many things that they can do together. So many things that Bruce, too busy running around in the Green Zone with no time for leisure, has likely never even thought of.

He’d been so sweet when he’d admitted to thinking about kissing Jeremiah when they used to work together in his bunker. He’d looked embarrassed, as if it were something truly worth flushing about. Jeremiah wonders how red he’d become if he told Bruce in detail how much he used to think about bending him over his desk, as well as how much he’d started thinking about Bruce pinning him down and imitating all that Jeremiah had fantasied about doing to him. 

There will be time for that later, he reminds himself, for now he must go slowly, slowly, softly, sweetly. Every gesture he makes is another stitch that binds them together, and each one must be carefully sewn until absolutely nothing, not even Alfred Pennyworth, is strong enough to rip Bruce away from him. 

He gets out of the car and manages to open the front door without breaking too much glass. When he steps inside Bruce follows right behind him, almost close enough for Jeremiah to feel the body heat he’s giving off, and it’s difficult for him to resist the urge to turn and bracket Bruce against the closing door.

Then he thinks,

Why not?

Bruce makes a muted sound of surprise when he finds himself pushed up against the nearest flat, vertical surface, and Jeremiah feels almost dizzy with how in love he is.

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, art brought to life, perfection given breath, a divinity in a mortal body. His perfect match in every way. Jeremiah can’t wait to see how quickly he’ll progress now that they’re finally on the same chapter, if not the same page. 

He presses their lips together and it only takes a second for Bruce to relax against him, tilting his head just-so to get a better angle. Bruce’s arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, and he sighs against Jeremiah’s mouth, and when Jeremiah moves to settle a leg between his Bruce makes a noise low in his throat that Jeremiah wants to record, just so he can hear it again and again and again.

There’s an idea. He wonders if Bruce would be opposed to recording some of their most intimate moments for the sake of commemoration. Something special, just for them, to enjoy together. 

The idea makes his blood run hot.

“The night is just beginning, Bruce,” he says under his breath as he pulls one of Bruce’s legs up to wrap around his waist. It leaves Bruce splayed open in a way that makes the fever within him burn brighter. “Whatever shall we do?”

“It seems like you already have an idea in mind,” Bruce responds, soft puffs of air falling from his lips and brushing over Jeremiah’s. His cheeks are already flushed, just from this, and Jeremiah feasts on the sight of him with an almost ravenous hunger. 

If only Jeremiah had known, months ago, that what Bruce felt for him was already crossing the boundary of friendship. He would have taken Bruce with him as soon as he and Miss Kean had killed Ra’s, he would have romanced Bruce in the grand way that he deserved, and united they could have had all of Gotham, their Dark Island, at their feet by now. 

Together they could have gone into Wayne Enterprises for the parts they’d need and Jeremiah would have shown Bruce, such a quick study, how to put all the necessary components together. His beautiful maze, so much more divine and inspired than the twisted remains of broken bridges, could have already become a reality. 

“I have so many ideas Bruce. It’s almost difficult to keep track, at times.”

The tunnel, the fireworks, building up his following, keeping track of Bruce, Bruce, Bruce—

It all circles back to him, in the end.

He presses a hand against Bruce’s knee, forcing his leg to spread a little more, extended and exposed all for Jeremiah, only for Jeremiah. The ease of the motion, Bruce’s unceremonious flexibility, sends sparks running from Jeremiah’s fingertips to his rapidly beating heart and then down, down, down to where his heated blood is pooling.

Even clothed, this position is deliciously indecent. He presses harder, spreads Bruce wider, and brings their hips flush together. It’s obscene in the greatest way.

Though he tries to hide it Bruce’s expression shifts, unease painting his eyes and mouth as his hands grip Jeremiah a little tighter. Jeremiah wants to soothe his worries, and find out what he’s most excited by, and meticulously take him apart piece by piece, inspecting all the odds and ends until absolutely nothing about Bruce remains a mystery.

“Jeremiah,” his voice has a wary edge, and though Bruce has proven himself to be somewhat deceptive at times, Jeremiah knows that this cannot possibly be faked. “Didn’t we talk about this?”

“I’m not treating you like a conquest, I’m treating you like a significant other,” he explains, managing to remain quite reasonable even though he’s burning up from the inside. “My sweetheart with whom I have gazed at fireworks and stars, and the raging inferno left in the wake of my bombs being set off by your hand. I was never one for dating, but I feel like that counts as at least two.”

A soft noise, an almost imperceptible laugh, falls from Bruce’s lips, and he looks surprised at himself for it. The shock he feels towards his own amusement almost outweighs his nervousness.

Jeremiah’s heart beats faster in his chest.

Bruce’s grip on him loosens, and Jeremiah presses in as close as he possibly can.

“There’s no need to be afraid.”

That, as planned, wipes the remaining apprehension off of Bruce’s face. His lips purse together and his eyes narrow, and Jeremiah can hardly keep himself from kissing that serious, adorable look off of his face.

“I’m not afraid. I’m just…” His gaze flickers away, and Jeremiah can’t stand it, but his eyes return where they ought to after only a few seconds. “When I communicate to you that I think that we’re going too fast, I would appreciate it if you took it into consideration.”

“I do.”

The looks Bruce regards him with is almost comically disbelieving. Such an expression has no right to be on his face when Jeremiah’s pressed against him so intimately. 

“Jeremiah,” Bruce sighs his name so pleasantly, “there’s no need to rush. Slow down, darling, we have time.” He presses a kiss to Jeremiah’s cheek, and Jeremiah is so weak when faced with the demure, open affection that he lets Bruce win, this once, since having their first time be messy and rushed up against a door isn’t exactly what Jeremiah has in mind for them. 

His hand falls away so that Bruce’s foot can settle back on the floor, and Bruce kisses his other cheek.

“Thank you.”

Slowly, softly, sweetly, Jeremiah reminds himself. Bruce deserves to be pampered, and adored, and to have the weakened bodies of his enemies laid at his feet so that he could enact vengeance in whatever way he saw fit.

Secretary Walker and her unit of goons won’t stand a chance against the pair of them.

A giggle slips past Jeremiah’s lips.

Nothing will stand a chance against the pair of them. Together they are able to be the best versions of themselves. Together they are unassailable.

He links their fingers together, just as Bruce had an hour ago when he guided him out of Wayne Manor, and he leads him further inside the house. The eerie silence and settled dust of a long-abandoned home does little to quell Jeremiah’s high spirits, and why would it?

All he’s ever wanted is within reach. 

They make their way up a grand staircase and Jeremiah opens doors one by one until he finds something suitable for them.

They’ve had a long day, and longer ones are yet to come. 

A quiet, intimate night in is just what they both need.

He gently tugs Bruce into the room, the silvery light of the moon coming in through the large windows lends it a soft, picturesque quality. Like something out of a fairy-tale.

It’s fitting.

And Bruce is so lovely in the moonlight that really, how could Jeremiah possibly resist kissing him again?

He takes Bruce’s face in his hands and, remembering to let the buildup start slowly this time, begins by pressing his lips to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corners of his eyes. Kissing Bruce’s nose coaxes a small, bemused smile out of him, and that is when Jeremiah finally brings their lips together; once, twice, thrice, slow and shallow. It isn’t until Bruce’s hands grip at his shoulders and he presses back more firmly that Jeremiah goes deeper. 

He takes Bruce’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down perhaps a little too-hard just to hear what delightful sound Bruce will make in response, and then he laves his tongue against the sore spot. Then, when Bruce tilts his head and parts his lips in offering, Jeremiah takes what is being given. 

The wet heat of Bruce’s mouth practically makes his toes curl. He wants to kiss Bruce forever, he wants to feel Bruce’s teeth clamping on his flesh to leave another mark, he wants to press his fingers against Bruce’s soft tongue and feel his lips close around the digits.

Something electric travels up Jeremiah’s spine and one of his hands drifts down from Bruce’s face so that he can slip it underneath his sweater and trail a line up and down Bruce’s back, all while drawing Bruce into a wetter, deeper kiss.

When Jeremiah pulls away he’s pleased to see how swollen and pink Bruce’s lips look. How beautifully kiss-bruised. His eyes are heavy lidded, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, and he breathes out quick, shallow puffs of air that brush over Jeremiah’s wet lips and makes them tingle.

Jeremiah wants to give him the whole world.

They’ll focus on Gotham first, of course, but after that…

He leans in to seal his lips against the fading bruise that he’d left on Bruce’s neck a few days ago and he sucks hard enough to bring blood back to the surface. Bruce’s hands drift lazily from his shoulders to his chest, and then he starts removing Jeremiah’s suit jacket. He pulls it off with much less urgency than when he had been stealing the detonator right under Jeremiah’s nose, and Jeremiah nuzzles his face into Bruce’s neck and nips a trail up to his jawline as Bruce’s fingers begin toying with the buttons of his dress shirt.

With each one that he undoes Jeremiah’s heart beats a little louder in his chest, and when the last clasp falls open he brings Bruce into another kiss. Bruce sighs against him, eyes fluttering shut, and Jeremiah’s hands both grip onto the hem of his sweater and start pulling it up, up, over Bruce’s head, leaving his hair wildly mused.

“You are such a sight,” Jeremiah tells him, tracing a finger against the bruise he’d left behind on Bruce’s chest. “I don’t think there’s a word that exists that can properly express how happy I am that you’re mine.”

Bruce flushes darker. 

Jeremiah, feeling like a moth drawn towards flame, leans closer. “And that I am yours, of course. You already knew that though, didn’t you?” He brings his index finger up to trace Bruce’s lips, but Bruce gently clamps his teeth around the tip of his glove instead. Jeremiah watches avidly as Bruce turns his head, pulling the glove off of Jeremiah’s hand and letting it fall from his mouth.

“Of course I knew.” Yes, of course he knew, otherwise he wouldn’t have thought that it was within his power to make Jeremiah to stop his fireworks. “But it is nice to hear you admit it.”

He traces a bare fingertip over the slight curve of Bruce’s smile.

“Oh darling, I’ll admit it every day, with every word, and every action. All that I do is for you, Bruce.”

Bruce closes his eyes and leans forward, resting his forehead against Jeremiah’s sternum.

“I know,” he whispers.

He doesn’t necessarily sound thrilled about it, but the acknowledgment itself is genuine. Bruce now knows and accepts the lengths that Jeremiah is willing to go for him, the lengths that he has gone for him. He’s no longer fighting against the inevitable, and in Bruce’s case getting him to stop resisting was half the battle. 

Jeremiah presses a kiss into Bruce’s wild hair and lets his dress shirt fall to the floor, then removes the other glove from his hand.

“I love you,” he tells Bruce, and even just saying the words leaves him euphoric. “I love you,” he repeats, something warm and wanting sparking inside of him.

“I know,” Bruce says, then he presses a kiss to his chest.

They aren’t yet on the same page, Jeremiah reminds himself, but they are on the same chapter. Bruce’s transformation is off to a wonderful start, but he’s not all the way there yet. Now that he’s begun, though, it won’t be long until his feelings mirror Jeremiah’s own. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

With Bruce finally free from the influence of the many who’d kept him weak and compliant, and who had probably been whispering poison in his ears about Jeremiah for the months that they’d been apart, Jeremiah imagines that the length of time will hardly be anything worth fussing about. By the time they put an end to Secretary Walker and her selfish ambitions Jeremiah is sure he’ll have heard those three perfect words fall from Bruce’s perfect mouth.

Maybe even before then, if he plays his cards right.

He takes Bruce’s face in his hands and pulls him into another kiss, gently shepherding Bruce backwards until his knees hit against the bed. His fingers trace down Bruce’s front, skimming over his nipples playfully. He can’t stop from smiling against Bruce’s mouth when he feels him shiver at the contact. Lower and lower he drifts, until his fingers begin toying with the button of Bruce’s jeans.

“Don’t worry Bruce,” he murmurs against Bruce’s lips when he feels him start to tense up. “I am going to take such good care of you.”

Tonight he is going to make Bruce forget about anything that isn’t important. Anything that isn’t them.

He undoes the button, then slowly draws down the zipper.

Bruce doesn’t tell him to stop.

Jeremiah presses a kiss to the bruise on his neck as he lets go, the thick fabric pooling around Bruce’s ankles. Bruce kicks off his shoes and socks, then steps out of the denim easily enough, it’s when Jeremiah starts to hook his thumbs into Bruce’s boxers that he goes tense again, anxious in the face of the new level of intimacy that Jeremiah wants to share with him.

“I just want to see you, all of you.” He slides their lips together again, the texture becoming dreamily familiar. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to map out every curve and valley and ridge of you, Bruce.” He deepens the kiss exactly in the way that he’s starting to suspect Bruce likes the most. He’s not disappointed by the soft noise that escapes Bruce’s mouth. “Won’t you let me?” 

Bruce, strikingly beautiful as he is, nods, and Jeremiah pulls the thin fabric down.

He looks at Bruce, heart beating like a drum in his chest, and he cannot believe that he is lucky enough to be eternally tied to someone who is so beyond compare. Unsurpassable in all ways. 

Mine, mine, mine, whispers the voice.

He pushes only somewhat impatiently on Bruce’s shoulders and once he’s seated at the edge of the bed Jeremiah pulls his legs apart, then lowers himself to his knees in front of him.

Bruce stares down at him, eyes wide and wonderfully dark, and Jeremiah can see his chest rise and fall quickly, and see that he’s not the only one who’s so deeply affected by all that they have done together thus far. Bruce’s cock is flushed and half hard, and Jeremiah can hardly wait to see how Bruce reacts when Jeremiah touches him.

His hands graze lazily over Bruce’s knees as he presses a kiss to Bruce’s neck, and then his lips and teeth begin their trek down; scraping over his nipples, skimming down his firm abdomen, then Jeremiah leans to the side to press kisses to his hipbones, and then he settles back on his heels to bite and suck and kiss at the inside of each thigh, leaving marks that he’ll revisit again before the night has ended. Bruce squirms through his attentions, his hands fisting into the bedsheets on either side of him, and Jeremiah eventually takes one and guides it into his hair.

“You can pull if you want, I won’t mind.”

Bruce’s fingers twitch against him.

“Jeremiah, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t do anything that I don’t want to do, Bruce.” After a moment it strikes him that Bruce is perhaps worried about reciprocation or intimidated at the idea of the many wonderful new things that Jeremiah wants to experience with him, and Jeremiah is quick to attempt to soothe those worries. “And you do not have to do anything that you don’t want to, either. I, perhaps, on occasion, do things to influence you or to gently steer you in a direction that you might not have chosen for yourself, but this is most certainly not one of those times.” 

He wants everything that he takes from Bruce to be freely given. He wants to know, with certainty, that Bruce wants it just as badly as he does.

And Bruce will want it as badly as he does. He’s sure of it.

He wraps a hand around the base of Bruce’s cock and basks in the sound of Bruce’s breath hitching. “I want to know every part of you as intimately as I know myself. I want to break you apart and put you back together. I want to be the first, the only, one who is able to read the signs and know exactly when you’re about to come.” He presses a kiss to the vein on the underside and Bruce’s hips jerk. He has to stifle a delighted laugh, he doesn’t want Bruce to think he’s finding anything about this funny, after all. It’s not funny, it’s captivating, and Jeremiah is going to draw so many sweet noises out of Bruce that he feels himself flush from his own expectations.

“Jeremiah,” Bruce’s voice takes on a slightly higher pitch. Not quite a whine, not yet.

They’ll get there.

“That’s my name, darling. Call it out for me, won’t you?” He laves his tongue against the wet tip, and a shiver races up his spine when Bruce says his name again, his voice a little more desperate. He turns his gaze upwards, and the way Bruce is watching him makes even more heat unfurl inside of him. “Don’t hold anything back, Bruce, I want to hear you.” And then he takes the head fully into his mouth.

Bruce, adorably inexperienced and sensitive, fists his hand tightly in Jeremiah’s hair without pushing him down further while his legs spread a little wider. Jeremiah takes a few moments to acclimatize himself to the feeling, to the taste, to the very idea that he has Bruce in his mouth, and then he pulls back slightly, tongue drawing firmly against the underside, before he takes Bruce in deeper.

“Jeremiah.” Bruce curls forward, eyes fluttering shut. “Jeremiah, fuck.”

Jeremiah chuckles, and Bruce moans at the feel of it.

He pulls away and runs his hand along the shaft, spreading the slick left behind by his mouth. Bruce’s hips match the rhythm he sets. Jeremiah watches his expression shift, commits every little muscle spasm to memory, and when Bruce bites down on his lip to keep from making noise he pulls his hand away, too. 

“Jeremiah,” he gasps as both of Jeremiah’s hands settle high on his hips, his nails lightly digging into the flesh there. “Miah, please.” His hand fists even tighter in Jeremiah’s hair but he still doesn’t force him down. “Please.”

If Jeremiah weren’t so charmed by Bruce he might make a quip about them not having to rush. But he’s asking so sweetly, and Jeremiah is so enthralled by him, and really, he wants exactly what Bruce wants, so why not give it to him?

He takes Bruce in his mouth again, and this time the noise Bruce makes could definitely be considered a whine. Jeremiah almost wants to press one hand against his own hard cock through his pants to take some of the edge off, but then he’d have to stop touching Bruce, and he’s not sure that he can bear that right now. He may lack a certain amount of practical experience, but all that he does is enough for Bruce to start becoming more vocal. He pleads and sighs and whimpers when Jeremiah cautiously lets his teeth drag over flesh, and soon both of his hands are in Jeremiah’s hair and he’s crying, “Miah, Miah, Miah,” as he comes in Jeremiah’s mouth.

Jeremiah continues to lap at and kiss him until Bruce is shaking from oversensitivity. Then he finally pulls away to brace his hands on Bruce’s thighs and rise up on his knees so that he can press a kiss to Bruce’s open mouth.

The night has only just begun. 

x-x-x

Bruce leans into Jeremiah’s kiss and wonders what the rest of this crazy night will bring. 

He had ensured that the fireworks wouldn’t happen, he had ensured that no one would get hurt from Jeremiah’s latest batch of bombs. It had felt like a victory even if he’d lost something and Jeremiah had, perhaps rightfully, interpreted his actions as something that tied them tighter together. Bruce had seen to it that there was no way for him to escape from or be rescued from Jeremiah, and had destroyed countless precious things that linked him to a past where he and Jeremiah were still unaware of each other’s existence. 

Bruce had told Jeremiah that he wanted them to work towards a common goal, and he hadn’t been lying.

His hands, once roughly fisted in Jeremiah’s hair, loosen their grip to run gently through the dark locks instead. He tilts his head and doesn’t resist when Jeremiah deepens the kiss, even though he can taste traces of himself on Jeremiah’s tongue. 

Jeremiah was too smart, and cunning, and catastrophic. Bruce needed to keep his manic, destructive energy directed at something that wouldn’t end in the suffering of everyone in Gotham for as long as he could, and Secretary Walker was such a convenient, loathsome target.

She was the one responsible for sending that ‘Born of Blood’ unit into Gotham. The one responsible for trying to ‘clean house’ to purge the criminal element without sparing a single thought for the innocent people who needed food and medicine and hope. The one responsible for taking two of Gotham’s own citizens and turning them into tools to be used to carry out her own terrible agenda.

Bruce burns at the memory of Haven. He’s not sure if the fire inside of him can ever be fully extinguished. 

But perhaps it can be momentarily forgotten. 

Because all of Jeremiah’s focus is on him, now, and Bruce feels submerged by his attentions. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’d been expecting when Jeremiah lead him into the bedroom, especially after he’d pinned Bruce up against a door not ten minutes prior. But it certainly hadn’t been that. Bruce can still feel the aftershocks of Jeremiah’s mouth on him, and it makes him ache in an oddly pleasant fashion.

Jeremiah loves him in his own particular, obsessive way, and Bruce… Bruce is willing to partner with him, and understands him, and is attracted to him, and likes the way that Jeremiah makes him feel, but he doesn’t love him. Not yet, anyways.

He thinks that might change now that he’s started to transform into what he’s meant to become.

It’s alarming, but it’s also strangely exhilarating. 

‘I could have loved you,’ he’d told Jeremiah only a handful of nights ago. He thinks that when they start working together again, just as they had ages ago in Jeremiah’s bunker, all of the feelings he’d tried to bury will resurface. Working with Jeremiah had always been special to him; those were the memories he’d held dearest, and the ones that had hurt him the most when Jeremiah vanished without a trace. 

And the entire time that he had worked with Jeremiah he’d been changed. They’ll slip into the same familiar rhythms as before now that they once again have a shared goal, only this time around there will be so much more resolvable tension simmering between them.

Jeremiah’s hands run up and down his sides; a firm, slow pressure that makes Bruce’s heart trip in his chest.

Together they are capable of so much. Jeremiah no longer holds all the power and Bruce cannot wait to see what they can accomplish when they work together as equals again. Jeremiah will undoubtedly have more in store for their city, but Bruce will never just stand aside and let him do whatever he likes. Not to Gotham, anyways.

Once they’re back, after Walker has been thoroughly dealt with, Bruce is going to continue to protect his city in any way he needs to. Whether with Jeremiah or from Jeremiah.

(In the back of his mind he thinks that their lovers’ quarrels will become legendary.)

But before they take down Walker, before they return to Gotham’s heart, they have tonight.

And Bruce find himself wanting more. Not everything, but…

He pulls back and looks down at the ugly wound on Jeremiah’s torso, wondering if it’s selfish of him to think of such things when his partner is still being held together by stitches.

Jeremiah notices the focal point of his gaze and seems to read Bruce’s thoughts after only a few seconds.

“I told you before,” he says as he rises to his feet, “it only hurts when punched. Even then, it’s not completely unbearable. I wouldn’t have been able to pin you to the door, otherwise.” There’s humour thick in his voice which, when that humour is being directed towards Bruce for whatever reason, is a decent enough sign that he’s telling the truth. 

But it’s still so bruised from their last confrontation. Even if he claims that it doesn’t hurt, it looks devastating. 

“Would you tell me if anything we were doing was causing you pain?”

“To be hurt by you is such an exquisite agony,” Jeremiah begins breathily, but he becomes a touch more serious just as Bruce feels himself start to frown. “Though I suppose I could let you know, if you insist.”

“Good.”

Bruce moves himself further up the bed and once he’s settled back against the pillows Jeremiah follows after him, until he’s settling his weight astride Bruce’s thighs. 

Bruce brings his hands up to skim over Jeremiah’s legs, trying not to stare too obviously at the firm outline of Jeremiah’s cock through the fabric of his pants before he settles his palm against it. Jeremiah’s hips rock forward, pressing harder against his hand, and Bruce watches avidly as Jeremiah’s eyelashes flutter.

He’d gained a slight flush to his normally ashen cheeks earlier and now it’s starting to deepen. The additional colour looks good on him, it makes him seem a little less otherworldly, and Bruce is curious to see how dark with blood his skin might turn. He pulls his hand away, but only to tug pointedly on Jeremiah’s belt loops.

“Take these off.” 

Jeremiah hums, leaning in to kiss him again. Bruce can feel his hands drift between them, working at undoing his belt.

“As you wish,” he says as he takes the belt off, then he raises up from his position crouched over Bruce to start pulling his pants down his legs. Afterwards there is only a thin layer left to keep him hidden, and Bruce can see a wet patch forming where the head of his cock is.

His mouth is dry, and he feels wound tight, but his fingertips curl into the hem and Jeremiah smiles down at him, his pearly irises a thin ring around his dilated pupils. Bruce lets out a breath he’d unconsciously been holding and pulls the fabric down.

He doesn’t let himself be embarrassed, what is there to be embarrassed about?

He begins to reach out but Jeremiah intercepts his hand before he can touch him. For a very short moment Bruce is worried that he’d somehow overstepped, but Jeremiah merely drags his tongue over Bruce’s palm three times before guiding it all the way down, his fingers enclosing over Bruce’s as soon as Bruce takes him in hand. 

He's warm to the touch, and smooth against the slickness of Bruce’s palm. Bruce feels an uptick in his heartbeat as heat pools low in his belly again. He licks his lips before asking, “what do you like?”

“What I like isn’t what I want at the moment.” Jeremiah’s fingers stroke over his own, present but not controlling. “What I want is for you to touch me the way you touch yourself.”

Bruce’s fingers curl a little tighter and Jeremiah lets out a pleased sigh that turns into something more when Bruce begins to move. He starts slow, his thumb toying with the head on each upstroke, but it isn’t long before his pace increases. He’d never had much patience, or time, to draw out his own pleasure. Jeremiah, eyes half open and locked on Bruce, his hand still covering Bruce’s own, doesn’t seem to mind the lack of buildup. His hips begin rocking forward in time with the hurried movement, and Bruce’s eyes trail down from his face to watch what he’s doing.

The head of Jeremiah’s cock is flushed even redder than his cheeks, and there’s precum glistening at the tip, and Bruce can’t bring himself to look away. He draws his thumb firmly against the slit, and Jeremiah hunches over him hissing, “Bruce,” from between his teeth. “Bruce, that’s it. Keep going, darling.”

Jeremiah’s fingers twitch restlessly over his, and Bruce raises his free hand up to the back of Jeremiah’s head to draw him into a kiss.

Jeremiah speaks against his mouth, though it mostly seems to be Bruce’s name repeated over and over and over. He bites Bruce’s bottom lip, almost hard enough to break the skin, and Bruce’s fist curls tighter around him.

It isn’t long before he’s spilling into their hands.

“Bruce,” he says under his breath as if in prayer, “Bruce.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “Bruce,” he drags out the name as if he’s savouring the taste of it on his tongue.

There’s something very satisfying about rendering Jeremiah unable to say anything but Bruce’s name. He’s usually so eloquent, with so much to say. This, too, feels like some sort of victory.

Jeremiah sighs happily against Bruce’s lips. The sound of it is oddly sweet, and Bruce feels his lips quirk into a fond half-smile. When Jeremiah pulls away, hands braced on either side of Bruce’s head, his eyes and countenance are touched by an affection that Bruce honestly hadn’t believed that he was capable of showing.

“You are so lovely when you smile,” Jeremiah tells him point-blank. “Although your usual brooding looks do suit you quite handsomely.” He chuckles and presses his lips to the ensuing furrow between Bruce’s eyebrows, and when he pulls back there’s still something dreamy about the look on his face. 

Bruce thinks about the shared smiles of long ago, and how drawn towards them he had been. Jeremiah’s expressions are much bolder now than they were then, but there is a magnetic quality to them all the same. 

They’ll have plenty of reasons to smile at each other soon enough. Perhaps not always soft, sweet smiles but also knowing, vengeful grins. 

He cups the side of Jeremiah’s face and his thumb presses up against the corner of his mouth.

“I like it when you smile, too.”

Jeremiah’s lips stretch wider.

He is, in his own special way, breathtaking. 

Bruce pulls him down for another kiss.


End file.
